ADMETVS 

A THESSALIAN FANTASY 
BY IRVING E. OVTCALT 





Class J&SjLLAI 
Book___ ' 



Gop>TightN°. 



V,^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Copyright 1914 

BY 

IRVING E. OUTCALT 



JAN -4(915 



ADMETUS 
ATHESSALIAN FANTASY 

A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS 

By 

IRVING E. OUTCALT 



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EXECUTtO &Y 

DENRICH 

CHULA V15TA. 



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NOTE 



This play was written for outdoor presentation by 
the class of June, 1914, of the State Normal School 
at San Diego, California. Since the Ionic portico and 
colonnades of the Normal School building were to be 
the stage and setting for the play, a Greek theme 
which should give opportunity for Greek costumes 
and pageantry seemed appropriate. 

The selection of the cast, the work of preparation, 
and the stage production were directed by Miss Jane 
Butt, Instructor in Oral Expression and Dramatics. 
All departments of the school assisted in preparing 
the details, — music, costumes, dances, stage proper- 
ties, etc.,— and the entire school, students and faculty, 
participated in the pageantry. 

The Choruses were sung by the Normal School 
Philomel Chorus, under the direction of Miss Rose 
E. Judson, Head of the Department of Music. Mrs. 
Margie Louise Webber, of San Diego, sang the solo 
in the fourth act. Mr. Ernest L. Owen directed the 
orchestra. 



6 ADMETUS 



The music of the choruses, '*0 The Day is a Loom," 
'The Day is Coming," ''Life so Fair," and 'The Day 
is Gone," and of the solo, 'Trom Some Far World 
Above," was composed by Mr. S. Camillo Engel, of 
San Diego, who on this occasion played the ac- 
companiments to his own compositions. Since then, 
Mr. Engel has composed music for the other choruses 
given in the lines, and also an overture, the necessary 
processionals and interludes, and the postlude, — in 
short, he has now provided a complete cycle of music 
for the play. 



CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY 



ADMETUS, King of Pherse 

ALKESTIS, the Queen 

EURYNOME, companion to the Queen 

PAL^MON, _- Priest of Apollo 

ZETHUS, an old peasant 

HERMES, the messenger God 

APOLLO, the Sun-God 

HERACLES, the friend 

Aurora, Phosphor, Hesper, the Hours, the Graces, the 
Muses, Ceres and Persephone with nymphs and swains, 
Bacchus and Ariadne with attendant revelers, and the Winds. 

The royal children, heralds, cup-bearer, attendants, soldiers, 
altar maidens, handmaidens, and citizens. 



THE FIRST DAY 



King Admetus of Pherae enjoys the special favor of 
Apollo. The reason for this is that when Admetus was 
a youthful hero, the great sun-god, having offended Zeus, 
was condemned to exile from Olympus, and spent nine 
years as a shepherd to the king of Pherae. He learned 
how rich and beautiful human life can be, and especially 
came to love Admetus. After he returned to Olympus 
he remembered the land of Pherae with the richest bless- 
ings that he could bestow, and cherished the design of 
conferring Olympian immortality upon the king; not un- 
derstanding that the characteristic joys as well as the sor- 
rows of earth grow out of the mortal condition. Admetus, 
responding to the favor of the god, has given himself up 
more and more wholly to piety; and his beautiful wife, 
Alkestis, with her warm human affections and her ready 
human helpfulness, has apparently become less and less 
necessary to his life. Only apparently, however. 

Now the annual harvest festival in honor of Apollo is 
being celebrated. The queen, as she observes the increas- 
ing asceticism of Admetus, cannot help recalling his 
heroic youth, when he won the games from all the other 
sons of Greece, sued for her hand, and then came for 
her, driving the team of wild boars and lions that the 
oracle had prescribed. 



10 ADMETUS 



For the first time, Palaemon, the old priest, detects 
omens of evil attending the sacrifices. The king is 
oblivious to these— so perfect is his reliance upon divine 
favor. The priest, whose human sympathies are strong 
in spite of his divine calling, is surprised to find that his 
own concern is for Alkestis. Admetus is almost ready 
to forswear the joys of earth, if he can but gain im- 
mortality. Only his deep love for Alkestis, now almost 
hidden under pious observances, still holds him firom 
Olympus. 

The coming of Heracles, the much-loved helper of 
mankind, is announced. 



Act I 



SCENE: The portico of the temple of Apollo in Pherae, 
It is the day of the harvest festival in honor of Apollo as the 
god of the harvest. The Worshipers come, bearing offerings of 
ripened grain and fruit, which they heap about the altar that 
stands in the foreground, or take into the temple. They pass 
in and out, and the portico is Well filled when Admeius and 
Alkestis, with Eurynome and other attendants, come to give 
royal sanction to the Joyful occasion. The king, almost priest- 
like in his bearing, salutes the temple with uplifted arms; then 
he invokes the favor of the god. 

Admetus Unto Apollo, on this festal day, 
The harvest of our lives we offer— nay! 
Are these our lives that wake to greet the sun, 
That sing while reaping till the harvest's done, 
Then feed upon the fatness he hath given. 
And sleep secure beneath his shadowed heaven? 
Not so! His flocks that Hermes tends on high, 
Whose golden fleeces rich the evening sky; 
The winds that blow his music thro' the groves, 
Dispelling from the valleys that he loves 
All earthborn mischiefs, wheresoever found. 
In noisome vapor or unhallowed sound; 
The health and joy and sweetness of the days 
Wherein we walk along his lighted ways— 
All these are not more his, to heed his call. 
Than we, from throned king to meanest thrall, 
Are his— Apollo's. Whence the songs we sing. 
Today? the solemn dance, wherewith we bring 



12 ADMETUS 



The hecatombs from herds that by his will 
Now graze and multiply on every hill 
Throughout our realm? Phoebus, all are thine— 
The herdsman and the herd, the grape, the wine, 
The kingdom and the king, the harvest day 
And all the harvest. Thou, to whom we pray, 
Art author of our prayer. Above our hope. 
About our lives, —yea, compassing the scope 
Of our deep joys and griefs, —thou art: thy love 
Hath left no emptiness below, above. 
And since it fills our hearts and sets us free, 
We grace ourselves in turning unto thee! 
As fountains overflow and find their sea, 
As birds give up in song the joys that fill 
Their tender throats too full, as the stars spill 
Back on thy luminous throne the light that thou 
Hast given too freely, — so thy people now 
Must render back the bounty of the land. 
And ours is but the trembling of the hand 
That holds the offering forth. Take thou our best: 
Phoebus, take thine own, and we are doubly blest! 

{AJmetus goes into the temple, leaving Alkestis, With Earynome and the other worshipers, 
in the portico.) 

Alkestis 

The king goes in. 'Tis meet that on this day 
The chosen of the gods should seek the shrine 
Alone. — Eurynome, dost thou not think 
Such piety sits well in Pherae's court? 

Eurynome 

It graces both Apollo and the king. 
Never was king so favored of a god 
As is our good Admetus! 



ACT ONE 13 

Alk. 'Tis not strange: 

Never was king so open to the skies 
As is Admetus. 

Eur. He was always so. 

Alk. Always? Yea, truly! Yet— I know not why — 
Sometimes my heart is thrilled by memories 
As of Admetus in another guise. — 
Less pious?— Nay!— But with each sacrifice 
To Phoebus,- the many hecatombs!— 
Thou knowest, Eurynome, for thou hast been 
Beside me always, — somehow stranger grows 
The image that I cherish from the past. 
Shall I forget Admetus as he came 
First to my father's court, and won the games. 
And took the wreath from all the sons of Greece? 
Less pious? Why, Admetus was himself 
A god on that great day! The worshiper 
Was I, earthborn, that scarce could lift my eyes 
To my Olympus! 

(She remains thoughtful, reminiscent. Palaemon enters from the temple. His face 
and manner show anxiety, as from some untoward occurrence. ) 

Eur. On the sun's great day, 

Why should the sun's priest wear a cloudy brow? 
Where is the king? 

Palaemon He lingers at the shrine, 

Where he most loves to be. 'Tis well: the god 
May speak to him directly. Light the work 
Of priest is, when the king's ear is so close 
To the god's lips! 

{Alkestis turns and observes Palaemon.) 



ADMETUS 14 



Alk. When the priest's mien is grave, 

On this of all days, in a land so blest, 
A queen must wonder — nothing more? 

Pal. The priest 

Must solve the wonder, — if it please the god 
To give him light! 

Alk. How went the sacrifices? 

Pal Well— and ill. 

Alk. How ill? In Pherag's land, 

What can impede the prayer of Pherse's king? 
What can divert the blessing of Apollo? — 
Or may a god grow weary of his love? 

Pal 

The love of Phoebus changes not, be sure! 

Alk. 

Then nought can harm Admetus or his realm. 

Pal 

Even to the priest, Apollo's oracle 

Is sometimes doubtful. — Human is the priest, 

And human hope and fear may mix within 

His heart, and then the Olympian light grows dim. 

Alk. A riddle! 

Pal Then I speak it as I see! 

Call it the riddling of an old man's fear, — 
But in the temple on this day, methought 



A C T N E 15 



The air was somehow heavy with portent — 
Yet was there nothing. — Blue and wavering 
The sacred flame — but what of that? These eyes 
May be less true, even in Apollo's light, 
Than when Apollo's Hours were kindlier. — 
Less keenly did my spirit seem to feel, 
Today, the presence of the god— a veil, 
Invisible but chill, had intervened. — 
What then? May not the spirit's channels fill 
With dregs of wasting years? And when I turned 
To supplicate the chariot-throne, a cloud, 
Heavy with omen, had shut out the skies. — 
5 But what of that? No cloud can make the sun 
Less sure! 

Alk. What power can harm Admetus, if 

Apollo change not? Is the king disturbed? 



Pal. 



He sees no omens — knows no evil: safe 

He lives within the bosom of the god. 

He scarce would hear the voices of the Fates! 



Alk. 



The Fates! True, there are Fates; but we who dwell 
In Pheraa's favored land regard them not. 

Pal. 

Would that they gave as little heed to us! 

{Palatmon goes out.) 

Alk. 

He told us all— nothing that we should fear, 
If the king fear not. Timid grows the priest 



16 ADMETUS 



With age. —Yet there are Fates, and he who stands 
Within the circle of the gods may well 
Take counsel of his fear.— Admetus /ear? 
Why should Admetus fear? He is a man— 
No less than when he wooed me! Eurynome, 
Canst thou recall the wonder of the day— 
The day long ere I came to dwell within 
These walls, which love hath made my only home — 
The day when first Admetus came? 
Eur. Aye, well! 

The glory of Admetus on that day 
Flows thro' the charmed memory like a song! 

{She reciles. The throng responds with the ciy, "Admetus!" at the end of each 
staoe. Alkestis listens with gror»ing fervor, as the youthful triumph of her hero is recall- 
ed to her. ) 

When the best and the bravest had striven, 
While the splendor of Hellas looked on, 

And Olympian murmurs came down, wind-driven, 
To mingle with earthly applause; 
From the press of the day's great cause 

Came forth, at last, to the foot of the throne. 
The victor, alone — 

One hero came forth at the last high call, 

One hero, to harvest the glory of all — 
"Admetus! Admetus!" 

Then the stillness of that great hour 

Closed round, like a starlit sky: 
Forgotten his right arm's unconquered power. 

And the quick, fierce will to die. 
Beyond the deep moment's ken 

The struggles, the victories, fade; 

And the wrecks his prowess hath made. 



ACT ONE 17 

The world — the world and its men 
Are lost in the leap of a spirit flame, 
At the sound of his name — 

"Admetus! Admetus!" 

Like the flash of sword from its sheath 

Is the joy of the young heart now; 
For the white-haird king leans forth with a wreath 

That is meet for a victor's brow. 
0, the games have been played and won, 
And the glorious striving is done! 

Is there aught beyond for a hero, then. 
Who is tried and ready? Ah, might we behold 
The vision of youth unrolled — 
The gleaming world and the path of gold! 

But the silence is shattered again — 
"Admetus! Admetus!" 

And more than a world is there; 

For the eyes of the hero have flown 
To the eyes of the maiden, where 

She stands by her father's throne. 
Eros, while trumpets sound. 
Thou makest thy silent victory sure; 
For the brave and proud, like the tender and pure, 

Must yield when thine arrow flies! 

Now the hero's lips are pale, 
And the wreath falls to the ground. 

And the glorious visions fail. — 
Doth he hear, while the sound of his triumph rings, 
How the heart of the maiden sings? 
"Admetus! Admetus!" 



18 ADMETUS 



Alk. 

Aye, how it sang! As if to fill the void 

With music fresh as motherhood's first joy! — 

The king returns — but not yet hath he ceased 

Communing with the god. Is this Admetus, 

Whose royal heart once quelled the savage team 

Of boars and lions? He, whose passion's tide 

Swept round me, as the ocean-stream the world? 

For I was like a little isle, adrift 

Upon a summer flood, — like Delos, I, 

Before distraught Latona's prayer called down 

The word of Zeus that fixed it in midsea, 

As a divine abode where love divine 

Might be fulfilled— and Phoebus bless the day! 

(Admetus enters from the temple. He is thoughtful, rapt, almost ascetic in his bear- 
ing. Alkestis regards him with wistful inquiry. He extends his arm toward her, 
benignantly. She obeys and tbe\; walk together to their places, while the handmaidens, 
courtiers, and other Pheraeans lak.e positions at either side. ) 

Adm. 

On days like this the god himself would come 
To greet us here! Canst thou remember? 

Alk. Dissembling. I 

Remember one whose coming brought the dawn, 
And crimsoned peak and sea! 

Adm. Surprised at her fervor. Dawn of his day 

It was— whose but Apollo's! Yet who markt 
The glory thro' his humble garb? How strange 
That man may see the god indeed, then turn 
To sordid mortal things again! 'Tis true— 
The god once walked these fields, —in shepherd guise. 
Yet none the less a god, — and we were blind, 



A C T N E 19 



Seeing the shepherd only! Yet we soon 
Perceived that wheresoe'er he came, our hearts 
Had wondrous power o'er song and beauty. Then 
In pure simpHcity I made him king 
Over the flocks that graze! And little guessed 
That I was but a shepherd in his world. 

Alk. Thou his shepherd? 

Adm. Aye, all things are his, 

And we are his, — 

Alk. Hurriedly. Aye, so you said, my lord. 

Adm. 

Why, even thou, Alkestis, art his gift — 
The richest of Apollo's gifts to me! 

Alk. 

His gift, my lord? A gift should have no heart! 

{She rises abruptly.) 

Music, Eurynome! Honor the day 
With dance and song! 

Eur. To the chorus of worshipers. 

Come, sing we of the day, 
And of the God of Day! 

Chorus sings 

0, the Day is a loom where the God doth weave, 

A wondrous loom is the Day! 
And the gleaming web is the life we leave. 

It gleams with our work and play. 
The flash of the shuttle, the quick return — 



20 ADMETUS 



Doth the weaver smile as he sees? 
We may love and hold, we may love and mourn; 
But what doth the weaver please? 

0, the Day is a harp to the God's swift hand. 

A wondrous harp is the Day! 
Its tones are the noises of sea and land, 

And strange is the harper's lay. 
From the God's swift hand fly the sweet wild 
chords — 

From the God's swift hand they fly! 
0, the music we love, but we know not the words 

That he sings as he passes by! 

(Admetus has hezn struck hy the inadvertent regret in the Words and manner of Alkestia, 
and thro ' his really deep affection for her half dioines what is in her mind. His habit- 
ual joy in the near vision of her beauty, and in the realization of her nobility and of her 
love for himself and their children, gradually brings back oil l>is natural tenderness. ) 

Adm. Alkestis, hast thou found the secret well 

Of youth undying? Every day more fair 
Thou art. The gods are doubly kind: the days 
Bring flowers to thee — take none away! 

Alk. I live, 

My lord, and love my life and thee, and all 
Thy gifts— and every gift of Phoebus. 

{Palaemon and an attendant enter.) 

Attendant. A messenger begs leave to greet the king 
I left him waiting at the palace door. 

Adm, Let him come hither. 

(He dismisses Alkestis affectionately, and with her all depart excepting Admetus, 
Palaemon and a few attendants. ) 



A C T N E 21 



Now the sacred day- 
Must lose its purport in the petty round 
Of a king's toil. Palsemon, one more word, 
Before yon messenger lets in the world. 
Thou art beloved of Phoebus: thou alone 
Dost know how ardently my spirit craves 
To do the will of Phoebus; since the day 
When, walking with a god upon these hills, 
I caught the hope that earth might mix with heaven, 
And man grow to Olympian stature, if 
His will might lose itself within the god's! 



Pal. 



king, thy piety is known to all. Enough 

Thou hast prevailed. No man may challenge Fate! 



Adm. 

Why should man speak of Fate? The gods them- 
selves 
Are helpless in the surge of that vast will, 
That sways from pole to pole! To think of that 
Is to be lost! Fate cannot speak to us — 
Heeds not our cries. The gods are friendlier, 
Nearer akin: they beckon from Olympus, 
And draw us upward. 

Pal. But this world is fair, 

Friendlier than Olympus — 

Adm. What, Palsemon, thou? 

Hath the man in thee overcome the priest? 

PdL 

Right, king! Thou'rt nearer to Apollo 



22 ADMETUS 



Than is Apollo's priest. — For one whose heart 
Is with the gods, this world indeed hath little: 
Wouldst yield it all? 

Adm. Aye, for one upward step! 

Pal. 

There hast thou pleged the price that man must pay! 

Adm. 

This world the price that man must pay, to gain 
Olympus? Gladly would I pay it then! 
The most that gods will give should be the least 
That man aspires to. What is paid and left 
behind — is nothing! 

Pal. Aside Then alas, Alkestis! 

{The messenger enters.) 

Messenger 

To Pheree's hospitable court I bear 
The greeting of a friend, Alcmene's son. 

Adm. 

What? Heracles? A blessed name! Where is 
Thy master? 

Messenger 

Even now he comes this way, 
On Thracian labor for Eurystheus bent. 
To-morrow shalt thou see him, if thou wilt: 
He craves thy hospitality awhile. 



A C T N E 23 



Adm. 

No better word could come to Pherae's court! 
A happy herald thou! Go on bef ore- 
Bear welcome to the mighty son of Zeus! 
Tell him our happiness awaits his coming. 

All go out. 



THE SECOND DAY 



Palaemon, the old priest, bearing the shepherd's staff 
that has once been Apollo's, comes in eariy morn t9 
the field where the god himself formerly tended the flocks, 
there to seek a closer communion with the divinity of his 
worship. He is opprest by the sense of coming evil, and 
his concern is still for Alkestis. About him, tho he does 
not know it, are all the beautiful divinities of the dawn; 
for it is their office to herald the god of day on his west- 
ward journey. Apollo himself is tarrying in these fields, 
as is his wont, recalling the joys of his former humble life 
in exile. He meets Hermes, messenger of gods and 
Fates, and learns that the death of Admetus has been 
decreed. He must save his favorite, somehow. He 
sends Hermes to bargain with the Fates. Then, to in- 
tensify the zeal of Palaemon and purge it of all human 
weakness, he reveals himself in full splendor to the priest, 
who thenceforth will be blind to all earthly things and 
will see only the splendor of the god. Hermes returns 
with the word that the Fates will grant a respite to 
Admetus, if some other worthy soul will go, a willing 
ransom for him, at the appointed hour. Heracles bears 
the stricken priest home to Pherae. 



Act 11 



SCENE: A field in Thessaly, near Pherae. In the back- 
ground is a rude altar to Apollo, to whom this field is sacred 
on account of his service as a shepherd. 



(The Chorus of the Dawn enters: First the Winds and the Hours; then Aurora, 
Phosphor, the Graces, the Muses, and other associates of Apollo; Bacchus with revelers, 
Ceres with attendant nymphs and swains. They are heralding the God of Day. 
Scenery, costumes, and spirit are appropriate to the dawn.) 

Chorus 

The Day is coming! Phoebus, lord, hath spoken! 

The huntress' bow is slack, her arrows fail. 
The Day is coming! Dawn's sweet dream is broken, 

And rosy fingers glimmer thro' the veil. 
The Day is coming! O'er the gray Aegean 

The petals kindle in the orient rose; 
And now the flame hath touched the hills Euboean, 

And thro' the Muses' haunts the glory grows! 

The Day is coming! O'er the western ocean 

The mists are flying — chastened is the air. 
The forest gloom is stirred with strange emotion. 

And one by one lays all its secrets bare. 
The Day is come! Behold the blazing portal! 

man, stand up! To thee 'tis given for aye 
To look with eyes that die on light immortal — 

Behold the chariot-throne! The God! The Day! 



26 ADMETUS 



{As the song closes, Palaemon and Zethus, an old peasant, enter. The priest seats 
himself upon a rock ond is soon lost in contemplation of the rising dawn. The shep- 
herd's staff, which he handles with so much reverence, is the one that Was formerly borne 
by Apollo himself, in this field. Old Zethus is carrying rocks and building a wall. 
Occasionally he regards Palaemon with evident scorn, and even interrupts his pious 
meditations, until the old priest is exasperated. 

Here and throughout the act the mortals who participate are ut.conscious of the 
divine presences, excepting when made aware by special act of Apollo. ) 

Zethiis 

Now, now, Pal£emon! Thou art old enough to do 
thy sleeping in bed. This is no place for such as thou. 
{He shakes the priest, who resents the intrusion.) What? Not asleep? 
Why, if thou wert young, thou might' st be in love! He, he, 
he! In love, old Palaemon! Dost know what love is, or art 
thou too old even to remember? He, he, he! 

{Chuckling over his joke, he resumes his work, and Palaemon his contemplation of 
the dawn. The divine chorus is before him, but he sees only the changing radiance of 
the morning.) 

Palaemon 

The morn comes pulsing, glowing, from the dusk! 
Here in Apollo's field, at break of day, 
I come, as is my wont, that so my heart 
May deeply drink the presence of the god. 
I feel within my hand his herdsman's staff 
Draw me unto him with familiar touch; 
I seem to see about me beauteous forms — 
Fresh as the dewy flowers with which they blend — 
Of those who grace his chariot-course, or bear 
His heraldings to every life that waits 
To be enkindled. Aye, the god is here! 
The doubts and fears that haunt the night, when eyes 
Are helpless, now should flee! 



ACT TWO 27 

Zet . Talking of a god— he, he! Wake up, Palsemon! 

Belike 'tis the same god whose priest thou art! Pal^mon a 
priest— old Palsemon— he, he! Fit for such a god! Why, 
that Apollo used to sit on that same rock and moon away the 
time, just as thou dost! What kind of a god can he be, that 
was too silly to herd sheep? Yet he was young enough to be 
in love. Wake up, old Palaemon— he, he! 

{He goes back to his work, chuckling derisively. ) 

Pal. Unheeding The god is here; 

Yet, in defiance of his presence, yea, 
Even of his panoply of morning, comes 
That gloomy portent, seeking me. Some harm 
Awaits the royal household, I am sure. 
Alas, Alkestis! Why do I think of her? 
Apollo's charge to me is of the king. 

Zet. Aye, that Apollo: he was a madcap youth. A 

shepherd, he? Why, he would sit where thou dost now, hold- 
ing to his lips a piece of wood that sang "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo" 
—he, he, he ,he,,he! "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, " it sang, hke a silly 
bird! He a god? Thou a priest? He, he, he! {He shakes 
Palaemon.) 

Pal. Away, clown, keep thy ribaldry for thy kind! 

Zet. Retreating, yet oblivious to Palaemon s anger. "Too-ra-loo-ra- 
loo," it sang, like a silly bird! {He goes out.) 

Pal 

Darkness and light — how strange! The twain 

must mix 
Daily before our eyes at dawn and eve. 
Forever must the life we know emerge 



28 ADMETUS 



From the mysterious flux of day and night. 

Forever must we see the world anew 

Created out of chaos with the morn. 

Of gifts divine, this is the crowning one— 

That we should see the Titan struggle forth, 

Daily, from out the black abyss! —Alas, 

Alkestis! 

{He gioes himself up to silent reverie.) 

Chorus 

Out of the orient glow and pass! 
Hang with jewels each blade of grass.— 
Shepherd or priest, peasant or king — 
Into his heart of Olympus sing. 
Dazzle his eyes with Aurora's tears; 
Trouble his spirit with hopes and fears; 
Then pick up the jewels, every one, — 
And hasten — we herald the passing sun! 

(Hermes enters. ) 

Hermes 

Ho, ho! Thessalian fields have captured 

Great Apollo's court of beauty! 
Pherae's swains I see enraptured, 
While a god delays his duty. 



Chorus 



Hermes 



Why, 'tis Hermes, he who wanders 

Widely, gods and men deriding. 



When the mighty sun-god squanders 

Daylight, there is cause for chiding. 



ACT TWO 29 



Goes your lord once more a- wooing, 

While the west awaits the morn?- 

All forgot, his late undoing. 

When he won Marpessa's scorn? 

Ho, I saw the great Apollo, 

When that fairest maid of earth 
Fled the god's embrace, to follow 

Idas to his humble hearth! 

Ho, ho! Be the warning shouted 
To Olympians who rove, 

* If a god would not be flouted, 

Let him seek no earthly love!" 



Chorus 



Hermes, scoffing at thy betters, — 

By thy scorn thou art betrayed; 

For the master-love that fetters 
Phoebus is not love of maid. 

Here, where mocking thou dost greet us, 
Wait we, while our lord, apart, 

Blesses all that King Admetus 

Holds within his pious heart. 

For with every day's renewing. 

Lingers he to please his eyes — 

All the humble scenes reviewing. 

Where he wrought in mortal guise. 

See, he comes! 

{Apollo enters, slowly, as if reviewing every feature of a landscape that is rich in 
associations. Hermes and the chorus fall back' ) 



30 ADMETUS 



Apollo 

Once more, earth, from lucid heights descending, 

I greet the shadows of these homely hills; 
I see the groves, and hear their music blending 

With sounds from fields that humble labor tills. 
How fresh the song that bursts the seals of morning! 

How glows the light, where late the darkness lay! 
How brave the toil, how brave the smile — death- 



scornmg 



The air how kindly, where these mortals stray 



Olympian bastions blaze with light eternal: 

The gods go forth, return, and all is said; 
While earth enfolds the mystery supernal 

Of light and darkness — of the quick and dead. 
Here night or day stands, now remote and single, 

As each in beauty braves the lonely deep; 
Anon, in twilight, their faint breathings mingle, 

And folded wings their mutual secret keep! 

Chorus 

A garden blooms in the dusk alway, 
'Neath the stars that circle the realm of day. 
(Like the rose-lighted dusk of a maiden's hair, 
'Neath the eyes of love, is that garden fair. ) 
And by golden pathways that Time hath worn, 
The gods come down to the brink of the morn: 
They breathe the fragrance of blossoms rare. 
That glow and fade in the starlight there; 
Then dreaming they mount to Olympus high, 
And drown their wonder in revelry. 

{Hermes discooera himself to Apollo. ) 



ACT TWO 31 



Hermes What now? Must the warrior descend from his 
chariot? Must the archer follow his arrows? Must the god 
measure his steps by those of men? 

Apo, Hermes, the mocker! And pray, who wanders 

more than Hermes? Lately more than ever! When was 
Hermes present at a council of the gods? 

Hermes With a grimace. Council, indeed! A dozen all- 

wise, all-powerful beings, with nothing at hand to tax either 
wisdom or power, sit about the banquet and tax Ganymede 
to protect them from drouth! 

Avo . Sympathetically. No wonder Hermes prefers to 

be a messenger — or even a cattle-stealer. 

Hermes Bowing ironically. Your memory is good! Yes, 

I fear that somehow I was born with a taste that is thrown 
away among Olympians. 

Apo. Credit Father Zeus for that: he is himself over- 

taken sometimes by the mood for wandering. But in sober 
truth, Hermes, Olympus hath need of thee. Father Zeus is 
gloomy of late, while Hera is very cheerful. Thou knowest 
how tedious the conditions must be for others. The latest 
adventure of Hermes, told as only Hermes can tell it, would 
be most welcome entertainment. 

Hermes Again ironically. The graceful compliment is 

not lost. But the gloom of Zeus and the good cheer of his 
consort must spring from one and the same source. Is that 
source known? 



32 ADMETUS 



Apo, Who should know if not thyself? I wait to be 

enlightened. 

Hermes Belike our brother Heracles is sweating — or 
bleeding — under the exactions of his taskmaster, Eurystheus; 
and at every drop the queen of heaven smiles, while Zeus 
winces and stores up wrath for the future. The hero will come 
this way, anon: he loves Admetus as a brother. 

Apo. For that I the more readily forgive him the 

wrong he did me once at Delphi. Whoever loves Admetus 
is Apollo's friend. 

Hermes Significantly. Let those who love Admetus 

help him— if they can. 

Apo. Sharply. What may those words portend? 

Hermes What can thy love avail, if it cannot teach thee 
what is in store for the man thou lovest? 

Apo. Thou knowest the unvarying law, Hermes: No 

god may read the future of the mortal whom he loves. It is 
the penalty that we must pay. Thou alone knowest all the 
decrees of Fate. 

Hermes That is no mystery. Hermes loves no one — is in- 
capable of love. His mind is as limpid as the ether which is 
his home and his highway. He knows no toil, because he 
recognizes no impediment; no distance, for his wings are never 
weary: no time — what can an immortal know of time, save as 
a rumor from mortality? Thou hast thyself trusted him with 
this wand, that from it he may shake wealth, for which he 



ACT TWO 33 

knows no use; happiness, which concerns him not; dreams, 
since he never sleeps. — 

Apo. Impatiently. ButAdmetus! Whatof Admetus? 

HevTYies Unheeding. The decrees of gods and of Fates 
are ahke to Hermes, since he hath nothing at venture; hence 
are all decrees known to him as they unfold, and he is their 
messenger elect. Grim Tartarus, whose very name throws a 
shadow across the Olympian revels, has no terrors for Hermes; 
and he alone may pass the gloomy gates unscathed. 

Apo. Admetus, Hermes! What of Admetus? 

Hermes Willing to vex Apollo. And this death, which to 
others seems the one black flower of a beautiful earth, is to 
Hermes as the lapping of waves on a seashore; hence is he the 
bearer of the mortal summons, and his is the hand that leads 
the reluctant spirit downward thro' the thickening shadows. 
Would Hermes be capable of these offices, if he were subject 
to grief or anger or love? Could such a one shoot spiteful 
arrows at the children of Niobe, or vengeful ones at a Cyclops? 
Or could he mope in the path of a loved one, or sigh to a tree 
or a flower, or wear wreaths of remembrance? 

Apo. Admetus, Hermes! Will nothing stop thee? 

What of Admetus? 

Hermes Hermes sees men and gods and Fates alike, and 
is capable only of laughter! He sets his wits at service, 
waves his wand, or touches the air with his wings— the deed 
is done, and he laughs — ho, ho! And, now, since a brother's 
mind is clouded by a mortal affection, Hermes will prove his 
quality, saying to thee, ' 'For all thou art the mighty sun-god, 
Phoebus, thou soon shalt lose thy friend!" 



34 ADMETUS 



Apo. Admetus? Lose Admetus? 

Hermes The word is already spoken by the Fates. Ere 
thou lead a second morning to these hills, I am to lead the 
spirit of Admetus — thither (pointing downward) . 

A'po. It cannot be! 

Hermes It cannot be! Ho, ho! (derisively) 

Apo . My will is otherwise! 

Hermes Thy will is otherwise! Ho, ho! 

Apo. Admetus is to be immortal — is to dwell with the 

gods! I have willed it: Zeus hath consented. 

Hermes Thus do the Olympians dance about bravely on 
the outstretched palm of Fate! 

Apo, But this must stop! My vows are given: they 

must be fulfilled. Hermes, thou shalt help me. Try those 
tireless wings once more; and since thou knowest not time, go 
down, ere it is too late, and greet the fatal sisters for me. 
Bid them name their price: Admetus must be mine! The 
love I bear him was born and nurtured in these fields, and 
hath a richer taste than anything divine — a flavor of the 
earth. I will not lose it. Bid them name their price! Thou 
wilt go, Hermes? 

Hermes To go and to stay are alike to me. To serve thee, 
I go. Await me here. 



A C T T W 35 



Apo. Here, without fail! 

{Hennes hastens away.) 

Now to this priest; for he must yield to me 
The last red drop of service. Ho, Palsemon! 
His human eye shall not discern me yet; 
But ere I leave him he shall know his god. 
His zeal hath flagged of late. — Palaemon, ho! 
Palsemon! 

{The priest rouses himself wonderingly from his reverie.) 

Pal. What? It is the god's own voice! 

{He prostrates himself.) 

Phoebus, art thou here? Declare thy will! 
Apo. Palaemon, priest of Phoebus, where is he? 

Pal 

Let not the god be angry: he is here — 

Thy priest, Palsemon! Never more thy priest 

Than now. 

Apo, Why lifts he not his voice in prayer? 

Is wisdom whole with him, or can it be 
That here in Thessaly no need cries out 
Which Phoebus can supply? 

Pal. On his knees. Thy voice is gracious! 

Dare I give words to that which fills my heart — 
To fear that strives to shape itself in prayer? 
May a man speak of such, and not presume? 

Apo. 

The priest presumes, who falters in his prayer! 



36 ADMETUS 



Pal. Then, Phoebus, be not wroth! I pray for one, 
Above whose head I see a portent hang, — 
Alkestis, dear to thee and to this realm 
And to Admetus, since that far-off day. 
When with thy aid, Admetus sued for her. 
And brought her with him to this favored land. 
A tender, gracious consort hath she been— 
A mother loving, wise — all Thessaly 
Is fragrant with her virtues — 

{Apollo has deen listening with growing impatience, and now interrupts.) 

Apo. What is this? 

Hast thou forgot thy charge? 

Pal. Prostrating himself. Nay, pardon! 

Apo. With growing wrath. What! 

Hast thou forgot the king and all his hope? 
Where now is thine allegiance? With the queen, 
Whose soul sees nought beyond this sordid life? 
Whose every power exerts itself within 
The narrow circle of an earthly home? 
What thinks she of Olympus? Hath her heart 
Hungered for aught beyond her hearth? 

Art thou 
A priest? — Apollo's priest? — establisht here 
To feed the yearnings of Admetus' soul 
For immortality — to free his heart 
From every gross affection? Thou a priest? — 
Apollo's priest? — now praying for the queen. 
Whose love is the last fetter that impedes 
His upward flight? The love thou bear'st the king — 
Why hath it not ere now revealed to thee 
The peril of the king? 



A C T T W 37 



Pal. His peril? His? 

0, pardon! 

Apo . Time it is that thou must know 

The God to whom thy vows are consecrated! 
Rise, priest — behold Apollo! 

{He reveals himself in full splendor. ) 

He that sees, 
As now thou seest, the god of day — his eyes 
Shall see nought else again thro' all his days. 
The splendor of the god shall fill his soul 
Thenceforth, and may not be disturbed! 

Pal. Spreading his arms in fearful joy. Tome! 

The splendor of the god! To me! At last! 

{Palaemon falls back, blind and unconscious. As Apollo regards him, the chorus per- 
forms a rhythmic measure about his prostrate form, singing. Hermes returns, and at a 
gesture from Apollo touches the priest with the caduceus, which has power over sleep 
and dreams.) 

Chorus 

Seal his eyes: 

Daylight dies — 
Brief is the vision of seas and skies. 

Hastes the gloom, 

Gapes the tomb — 
Swift are the deed and the doom! 

Phoebus, he lies on thy hallowed ground: 

Now make him surely thine. 
Wide thro' his spirit the Paean sound — 

Thrill him with joy divine. 



38 ADMETUS 



Aurora Comes the blithe morning to smile for him, 

Turning the shadows to rose; 
Hours Come the glad Hours to beguile for him 

Time that so tardily flows; 
Muses Come the rapt Muses to sing to him 

Songs of the heavenly spheres; 
Graces Come the fair Graces to bring to him 
Blossoms that fade not with years. 
Weave we the circle around and around, 

In a changeless stream; 
When he awakes from his deep, deep swound, 
Life will seem 
But a passing gleam, 
In an immortal dream. 

Hermes In his former derisive tone. How very becoming 
anger is to a god! 

Apo. No mocking now, Hermes! Yet thy gibes should 

trouble no one. Thou hast judged thyself: thou art a mes- 
senger, —no more, —knowing not the weight of what thou 
bearest, seeing nothing that thou seemest to see. —Who 
comes here? 

(Old Zelhus enters, discovers Palaemon, and tries in vain to rouse him.) 

Zet. Palsemon! What, Palasmon! Art dead? Nay, 

there is still breath here. Yet his eyes look strange. 
Palaemon, Palaemon! Can the old man sleep so, with his face 
to the sun? {He tries to drag the bodyawa^, but is not strong enough.) 
I must seek help: he must not lie so, in the sun. (He goes out. 

Apo. But what say the Fates? What is their price? 



ACT TWO 39 



Hermes A high one: they grant thee respite for 
Admetus; but at the appointed hour to-morrow I am to lead 
to them another worthy soul as a ransom. 

Apo. They might have demanded two! How came 

they to be so gracious? 

Hermes But the ransom must be a willing one. 

A'po. H'm — that will be more difficult; these foolish 

mortals are strangely enamored of their petty lives. But it 
will be contrived. The king hath many lovers in his land, 
and he himself is resolute for immortality. And yet, may I 
count upon him? Humanity hath vagaries more strange 
even than love of its unstable life. What means that silly 
choice of Marpessa? And how was Palaemon so easily 
seduced from his charge? But the priest is secure, now. 
When he awakes he will know nothing but my will, and will 
see nothing but the splendor of Phoebus. I can trust him. 
Let us go. 

{At Apollo's signal the chorus goes out before, singing.) 

Chorus 

Out of the orient glow and pass! 
Hang with jewels each blade of grass. 
Shepherd or priest, peasant or king— 
Into his heart of Olympus sing; 
Dazzle his eyes with Aurora's tears; 
Trouble his spirit with hopes and fears; 
Then pick up the jewels, every one. 
And hasten— we herald the passing sun! 

(As Apollo and Hermes are about to depart, they see old Zethus returning With 
Heracles. ) 

Hermes Here comes a brother! He will undo thy work. 



40 ADMETUS 



Apo. Heracles— with the lionskin! Let him not per- 

ceive us. How his might hath grown under his hard 
taskmaster! Nay, he will not mar my work, nor I his: our 
purposes are to nearly akin. But let us observe him. 

{Heracles pauses to look about, then strides forward until he bends over the prostrate 
form of Palaemon. 

Heracles Is this the man I am to help? 

Zet . Breathless. Heu, what a stride thou hast! 'Twould 

wind Achilles the swift-footed! Palaemon! Thou sleepest 
well, old man! Is he dead, think you? Alack, there will be 
some weeping, if the good king and queen hear that he is 
dead. I left him here but a moment— mooning away, as is 
his wont in the morning. He was a good man, but old, very 
old — not what he was once. Alack, we shall all grow old! 

Heracles He is not dead, nor is he in pain. The sun hath 
toucht his eyeballs — those arrows of Phoebus are keen. He 
will awaken, but he will not see. 

Zet. Not see? Why then he will be blind! Palaemon 

blind? Impossible! Why, how can he keep a flock, or lead 
a procession on a feast day? He could not lead himself — he, 
he! Palaemon blind? No, no, that cannot be! What, wilt 
thou carry him? 

Heracles How sound is his sleep! Some lofty power hath 
a hand in this. (He looks obout, suspecting a superhuman presence.) 
Yes, old man, I'll bear him home. The shoulders that once 
carried a lion's carcass into the court of Eurystheus will 
make a light burden of this beloved priest. He shall be 
surety for my welcome. 

{He lifts Palaemon to his shoulders — Zethus trying to help — and strides away.) 



A C T T W 41 



Zet. Chuckling. A lion's carcass! A brave jest — he, 

he! A lion's carcass once, now old Pal^mon! Palaemon a 
lion's carcass — he, he! 

(He goes out. ) 

Hermes Tomorrow I shall summon the spirit of Admetus. 
If he be not ready, he must find ransom. Is it understood? 

Apo. Thanks for thy courtesy! Admetus will not go 

with thee. 

{They go out.) 



THE THIRD DAY 



The pious ecstasy of King Admetus is heightened by 
the story which blind Palaemon tells him of the vision 
of Apollo. The priest is now truly and wholly the 
spokesman of the god, and is ready with the divine 
message. Admetus shall enjoy immortality, if only his 
will is equal to the breaking of all the ties of earth. As 
the priest departs, Alkestis enters. Her quick human 
sympathy, awakened by the old man's affliction, leads 
now to a revelation of the wide difference in interest 
that has developed between the king and the queen: his 
concern is with the god, hers is with human things — 
the works of the god. His pious raptures bafifle her, 
tho' she scarcely knows how. Then Hermes comes, bear- 
ing the fatal summons to Admetus, who is overcome by 
the catastrophe. Alkestis takes up the asphodel in his 
place. She leaves without revealing her purpose. The 
king, with health and vigor returned, now tries to find 
the substitute required by the Fates, but is soon informed 
that one has been found within his household. While 
he is recounting these things to Heracles, the sound of 
the wailing of mourners approaches, and then comes the 
announcement of the death of the queen. Heracles 



_ ACT THREE 43 

readily perceives what has taken place, and Admetus, 
more slowly, realizes that even a woman might satisfy 
the requirement of the Fates. He is overcome with 
grief, and is led away, as the chorus of mourners comes 
in. Heracles, filled with compassion, determines that 
Alkestis must be recovered from death. 



Act III 



SCENE: IVithin the palace of King Admetus. 

{The l^ing and Palaemon, who is blind, enter with attendants. Admetus is evidently 
absorbed in contemplation of the experience which the priest has Just been recounting to 
him.) 

Admetus Hast thou told all, Palgemon? Turn thy face 
This way again, — Those eyes have spent their power 
In one fierce moment's joy; that so their god, 
At height of glory, might possess thy soul 
Forever. 

Palaemon my king, thou think 'st it much 

That I should lose my sight. In truth, the price 
Was nothing, and already is forgotten. 
What are a season's blossoms, when the walls 
Of time and place are lost in one dread flash, 
And the vast sea from which all beauty flows — 
From which those flowers were painfully distilled — 
Comes, flooding all the spirit? 

Adm. 1 have walked 

Side by side with Apollo in those fields: 
He was an exile from Olympus, then, 
And shunned all semblance of the god. To me 
He made himself a man. Nine years I knew him — 
Yet knew him not as god; nine years I felt 
His spirit somehow quicken mine to life 



ACT THREE 45 

The blood could not keep pace with. Thro' his heart 
A vigor seemed to flow, from secret wells 
Too deep for me to fathom. Thou art blest, 
Since thou hast seen him as he is. 

PoX. And yet 

In this old body was the vision poured, 
And when this body dies, the vision dies. 
Blest am I, King Admetus, for a day. 
Since I have seen that high, imperious brow 
Bidding the day spring flow eternally! 

Adyn. 

Thy king would share thy blindness, could he share 
Thy vision. 

-PaL Nay, my vision is but mine! 

Whilst thou, king shalt sit among the gods, 
Beside the fountains of all streams that flow! 
Where I but taste, there shalt thou drink thy fill! — 
Thou art astonisht? 

Adm. Thou hast named my hope! 

With what assurance? Hath Apollo's wand. 
In Hermes hand, been prompter of my dreams? 
And hath Apollo's love, with purpose, fed 
That fond, presumptuous hope within my heart? 
And comest thou, Apollo's priest, with his 
Authority new-sealed upon thine eyes. 
To change that hope to substance? 

Pal. Even so. 

Apollo's love hath placed immortal life 
Within thy reach: put forth thy hand and take it. 



46 ADMETUS 



Adm. 

Put forth my hand? 

Pal. The gods force not the gift 

Of immortality on any man. 
'Tis in thy will to take or to reject. 

Adm. 

The gods are wise; yet why consult my will? 
My will is in Apollo's, as thou knowest. 

Pal, 

Thy will is thine, Admetus — dost thou pause? 

Adm. 

Surprised I am that something in myself 

Bids me withhold my hand and think. I know 

That the immortal hope, so dominant 

Within me, hath been strangely checkt, ere now. 

By promptings from this human life. My realm 

Is fair to look upon — its fields and flocks, 

Its homes, the life that humbly ebbs and flows 

As wills the king. My sons and daughters, now 

Fast blooming into life, draw me to them 

By dawning gifts and graces; and my queen, — 

Alkestis, ready ever with her hand 

And heart, and by her natural joy in life 

Making life sweeter to all things that live— 

Why should I shun the lot of these, who all 

Go smiling toward the dim, mysterious door. 

That opens once for each — and not again? 

Pal. 

Aye, but Admetus— 



ACT THREE 47 

Adm. Pardon me, priest! 

I know that these are Hght and trivial things— 
Lighter than thistle-down to one whose eyes 
Burn with the image of the very god! 
I set them forth, as I would bare my soul 
Before Apollo. Then I say, with thee. 
Earth is akin to heaven: man's highest hope 
Should scale Olympus. He must not refuse 
To pay the earthly cost of bliss divine! 

Pal. 

Alkestis comes! 

Adm. How canst thou know? 

Pal. Hurriedly. Her step! 

Farewell, king! — I must not speak with her, 
Lest I regret my eyes!— Nor man nor god 
May hope to make clear to a woman's mind 
The lofty intercourse 'twixt god and man! 
Farewell: the gods have chosen thee, king! 

Adm. 

Farewell, Palsemon. {To the attendant.) Lead him 
gently down. 

{Alkestis enters, followed by Eurynome. She recognizes Palaemon, who is being led 
out, opposite.) 

Alkestis Palsemon? Ah, the poor old man! Alas! 
The tale of his disaster even now 
Hath reacht my ears. What? Is he blind indeed? 
An old man should not gaze into the sun: 
His vital fluid is too easily 



48 ADMETUS 



Drunk up. Is there no help?— no Kniment 

In all our store, — no poultice that my hands 

Could make, to cool the fever? None? Then all 

Our simples and our healing art are vain, 

Against the darts of Phoebus, — Phoebus, god 

Of healing, who hath taught us all we know! 

Persuade him to come back and let us try. — 

He was a priest of Phoebus! — To be blind — 

No more to see the dew upon the grass. 

The ripple of the wind across the trees 

And meadows, or the flocks among the herbage, 

Or smile of human friendliness — no more? 

Why, these are Phoebus' works! — Mine own eyes weep, 

That his should be distraught, — and he so old. 

So few days left for seeing, at the best! 

Adm. 

Alkestis, spare thy pity. Tears become 

Thy woman's eyes, but here are spent in vain. 

Palaemon needs no pity: he hath seen 

His god; and is more blest, since Phoebus wills 

That he shall see nought else. 

Alk. May a god, then 

Be jealous of his works? A mystery! 

A.dm. Aside. Right, Pal semon! {To Alkestis, severely) The 
gods have not made clear 
Their ways — to woman's comprehension. She 
May lead her life secure, and question not. 

Alk. A blessing, truly! — Pardon me, my lord; 

'Tis thou hast made it such, for me, my lord. 



ACT THREE ^ 

{She pauses, wondering how best to make herself understood. ) 

I saw thee first as victor in the games, 
And knew thee as the hero of all Greece — 
My hero! 

Adm. Nay, Alkestis, 'twas the god 

That nerved my arm unto that victory. 

Alk. More eagerly. Let it be so; but I saw thee, my lord! 
I knew thee next, when thou didst burst upon 
loicos, and our bravest shrunk aghast 
From thy wild team of boars and lions, tame 
To thee alone— their savage spirits quelled. 
Made plastic to thy youthful vigor. 

Adm. Nay, 

Alkestis, 'twas the god's hand held the leash. 
Not mine! 

Alk. With growing fervor. But I, Admetus, knew that thou 
Hadst come thus, seeking me! And thee I saw. 
And then on Pherse's throne I saw thee sit, 
And I was proud to be thy consort, proud 
To be the mother of thy children, who — 
Sweet buds now bursting into bloom — will bear 
Thy spirit and thy image, mixt with mine, 
Down thro' the days of Hellas. 

Adm. These are all 

The god's works still, Alkestis! 



50 ADMETUS 



Alk. Baffled. So they are! 

I thank the god that he hath let me know 
And love his works; for they have given to me 
A life that fills my spirit to the brim, 
And leaves no room for doubts or fears. 

Adm. Moved, but hardening himself. A sweet 

Content is thine, Alkestis, truly; fit 
For woman's soul, not for the man's. Most blest 
Palsemon is: the height of a great hope. 
His at last for an instant, hath infixt 
A splendor that is his for life! For life? 
Who knows? That splendor may go with him down, 
Even to the pit of Hades, there to light 
His spirit thro' dim gardens of the dead! 
Man must pursue his aspiration up — 
Up to the last chill height, tho human ties 
Be broken, and the earth become a blank. 
As to Palgemon's sightless eyes. The gods 
Are else most cruel, and their high Olympus 
Is but a snare! 

{He wooers suddenly, and drops into a chair.) 

Ah, what is this? A pang, 
Sudden and sharp — 

Alk. 0, art thou sick, my lord? 

Adm. 

It passes. What a sudden shock was that! 
Thy hand upon my forehead — so. It's gone. — 
What was I saying? 

Alk. Think no more of that. 



ACT THREE 51 

Palasmon's story hath — wilt thou lie down? 

( The king yields to her persuasions, and lies bacl^ upon the couch, where Alkestis and 
Eurynome try to make him comfortable.) 

Eurynome will sing, if that will please thee: 
Her voice hath often brought the solace — there! 

(Eurynome gets ready to sing. Palaemon enters, unattended, and remains for some 
time unobserved. The signal for the coming of Hermes is heard first in the distance, 
then nearer, then right at hand. It is not heard by any save those immediately concern- 
ed—the king and the queen; and when Hermes enters, he is not visible even to them, 
but they hear his voice and see the wreath of asphodel which he tosses down as a token. 
Eurynome is bewildered and dismayed by the conduct of the others. Palaemon Waits 
tranquilly throughout. ) 

Adm. Hearing the note of Hermes faintly, and half rising. 

What sound was that? (The note again, nearer. Both 
listen intently.) Again. Didst hear it? 

Eurynome Ready— 

What shall I sing, my lord? 

Adm. Why did that sound 

Shoot a strange weakness thro' my limbs, and numb 
My spirit? {The note a third time, novo at hand.) 

Once again it comes! What now? 

{His voice has sunk to o lehisper. The two are on their knees, with intent faces 
toward the sound. Hermes appears, characteristically impudent. ) 

Hermes Admetus! King Admetus! 

Adm. Hermes' voice! 

What word from high Olympus dost thou bear 
Tome? 



52 ADMETUS 



Hermes Admetus, king, prepare for death! 
At noon this day thy spirit shall go hence! 
Witness this token from Persephone. 

{He tosses down a wreath of asphodel, from which Alkestis involuntarily shrinks. 
Admetus regards it not: the emergency has awakened his old defiant spirit, which has 
lately been dormant under an excess oj piet^. He rises indignantly.) 

Adm. 

Unword that summons! It is not for me! 
Take thy curst token back! Admetus hath 
A higher call: let Phoebus be my witness! 

Hermes 

Phoebus? Ho, ho! A higher call! Then hear 
The last word of the Fates! 

Adm. Overcome. The Fates! Alas, 

I am undone! Phoebus, what — 

Hermes Thou call'st 

On Phoebus: know that for thy piety 
He hath made intercession with the Fates, 
Who graciously have granted thee a respite. 
Within thy choice. If any worthy soul 
Will go, a willing ransom for thy soul. 
At the appointed hour, thou still shalt live; 
If not, thy spirit shall go hence with me. 
The word is spoken and may not be changed! 

{Hermes disappears. Admetus and Al\estis remain in suspense until they hear the 
Hermes note sounded faintly in the distance. Alkestis picl^s up and conceals the Wreath 
of asphodel. She feels the sudden pang of the fatal sickness, but nerves herself. 
Admetus is still dazed by the sense of catastrophe, and recovers himself slowly, as the 
sickness leaves him. With clear purpose, the queen assumes control. ) 



ACTTHREE 53 



Alk. 



My lord, thy piety hath kept thee whole! 
The land is filled with those who will be glad 
To go as ransom for their king, — as is 
A subject's simple duty, 

Adm. Think'st thou so, 

Alkestis? 

Alk. 'Twould be treason in a king 

To doubt it — treason to his faithful realm! 
Thou knowest it is so. — 0, thou shalt live 
Long, and thy kingdom be a garden, where 
The gods will walk with thee! And thou shalt see 
Our sons victorious in war and peace. 
As I saw thee; our daughters thou shalt give 
To worthy heroes, that their days may be 
Happy, as mine were. — Ah, Eurynome! 

{She half supports herself upon Eurynome. Admetus is regaining command of 
himself. ) 

I see it all, my lord— what thou wilt do 

And be, in plenteous days to come, on this 

Good loyal earth. — I see in one quick flash. 

As good Palsemon in an instant saw 

His bliss complete, ere darkness overtook 

His eyes. — Eurynome, now lead me hence — 

I faint almost — with joy! Nay, stay thou here: 

Thou hast thy work to do, Admetus! — Ah! 

Phoebus hath succored thee indeed, for thou 

Art pious: trust thy people for their part. 

Since thou hast been a virtuous king. Nay, nay, — 

'Twill soon be past! Eurynome will care 

For me. 

{Admetus goes with her to the door, but she Will not permit him to go farther. ) 



54 ADMETUS 



Adm. How frail a vessel is the heart 

Of woman — shattered now by fear, now joy. — 
For me, I feel my vigor all returned; 
And my blood bounds, as if the summons were 
To life, not death! Ho there, without! 

(An attendant goes to summon the k'^g's guard.) 

The time 
Is short. Blessed be Phoebus; he once more 
Hath steaded me in time. Now to my work. 
The king's life appertains not to himself. 
But to his realm. The chosen of the gods 
Must heed their high call, whatsoe'er the cost! 

( The royal guards enter and form for orders. He scans the stalwart line with pride. ) 

Who of these bravest men in Thessaly 

Shall be my ransom? — Now, men, which of you 

Will die to save his king? 

(Every sword flashes from its sheath, and the line steps forward with cries of ' ' The 
King! The King!") 

Nay, sheath your swords. 
The foe that threatens him cannot be toucht 
By arms, or fenced against by armor. He 
Comes silently but surely, and demands 
But one — today. — But no more riddling now! 
At noon thy king must die! The fatal word 
Is spoken. But if any worthy man 
Will die, a willing ransom for the king, 
The king shall live. Such grace hath been allowed. 

(He pauses briefly. The line remains unbroken.) 

Back to your places, men! I will not shame 
Myself or you by waiting. ( They obey.) Herald, go — 
And blow a signal thro' the streets — 



ACT THREE 55 

{An attendant enters and speaks to Palaemon, privately.) 

Pal. The word 

My lord, already hath gone forth, and one 
Is come to say thy ransom hath been found 
Within thy household. 

Adm. Phoebus be praised again 

Not for the king's life only; nay, much more, 
That such devoted loyalty yet lives 
In Pher^e! But I knew my life was whole. 
The tide of health was coursing thro' my veins 
Already. — Tell the man, whoe'er he be. 
His noble sacrifice is registered 
With gods who ne'er forget; and say to him 
That royalty will do its uttermost 
To dignify his deed, and all his kindred 
Shall be ennobled in the state. His name 
Shall be their lasting honor. See it done! 

{The attendant goes, Admetus summons another. 

The weighty matters on our mind today 
Have caused us to neglect our noble guest, 
Great Heracles. Go, bear our greeting to him, 
And urge him at his will to meet us here. 
Alkestis will be here, anon. 

{As the attendant goes, the king first takes note of Palaemon' i presence.) 

Pal^mon, thou? 
And unattended? How — 

Pal. Phoebus hath eyes 

For me, and they are at thy service, king, — 
Thou favored of the gods, — as faithfully 
As mine were once! 



56 ADMETUS 



Adm. Thou knowest all? 

Pal. Aye, king: 

A great deliverance is wrought. Be firm, 
Once more, and let no mortal yearning step 
Betwixt thee and Olympus! 

Adm. Yet, once more? 

Pal. The god is sure; but consummation still 
Is thine to choose. {Heracles enters. ) 

Adm. Ah, friend, great Heracles! 

The friend of man, indeed. This house hath oft 
Been gladdened by thy coming, — never more 
Than when thy shoulders, that before had borne 
So many burdens, bore into this hall 
Yon loved priest, blinded by the answer to 
His lifelong prayer! But we have been remiss. 
A king must be the subject of his realm, 
Tho his own pleasure suffer. But our queen 
Will join us soon, and we will make amends. 

Heracles Heartily What are amends that are not made 
already, — 
In that I see thee well, and soon shall see 
Thy gracious queen? For an unwelcome tale 
Of illness of thyself or of the queen 
Hath come to me. 

Adm. *Twas nothing, and is past 

But let me tell thee what hath chanced. I know 
Thou lovest noble deeds in others, as 



ACT THREE 57 

Thou lovest to perform them. Here is one. 
Heracles, the messenger of Fate 
Came to me in this room today! 

Heracles What, Hermes? 

Adm. 

Hermes, — to lead my soul — thou knowest whither! 

Heracles Thy soul? 

Adm. Aye, and had Phoebus not prevailed 

In my behalf, the king, who now in health 
Recounts to thee— with shuddering — this tale, 
Would be a dying man! 

Heracles A marvel, truly! 

What? Could the word of Phoebus bend the will 
Of Fate? 

Adm. Somehow the iron will of Fate 

Was bent. A willing, worthy soul was askt, 
As ransom for the king. What thinkest thou? 
Would the king's faithful subjects let the king 
Be taken in such strait? Thou seest that I 
Am well, — and it is now the fatal hour. 

Heracles King Admetus, thou art doubly blest: 
First, for thy favor with the gods; and then, 
No less, that this, love's highest challenge, hath 
Not rung in vain in Pherse! Yet, as king 
O'er such a subject, thou'rt no happier 
Than is that subject, whose brave soul uprose 
To save the king by such a deed! Therein, 



58 ADMETUS 



Alone, may man outstrip the gods — that he 
May die for love! 

Adm. noble Heracles! 

I partly guess thy meaning. What is that? 

(A sound of the wailing of Women is heard. ) 

Is that the wailing for the soul that goes 
As ransom for the king? 

Heractes Reverently. For him should rise 

A song of triumph, rather! 

Attendant Entering The queen, my lord, 

Is dying! 

Adm. and Heracles The queen! 

Att The queen, my lord, is dying! 

Adm. Incredulous. 

That cannot be! She was but faint for joy! 

(There is a pause, in which Heracles divines all that has happened.) 

Heracles For joy, Admetus, she hath ransomed thee! 

(Admeius slowly realizes thai even a Woman might fulfil the terms of his ransom.) 

Adm. 

I see it now: why saw I not before? 

(To the attendant.) 

Dying, thou said'st— not dead! Then this must 

stop! 
Where— who can check this thing? Phoebus, 

thou— 



ACT THREE 



59 



Pal. Patience, King Admetus— this is now 
Beyond the gods. Be resolute, my lord, 
\ Once more, and then— 

Adm. Palgemon, NO! Thou hast 

No solace here! The bliss of all Olympus 
Could never pay this loss! 

(He is overcome with grief. Heracles lifts him to his feet and attendants come to his 
support. ) 



Heracles 



Lead him gently in. 



(Admetus is led away, and is follorsed h\) Palaemon, also attended. Heracles resumes 
his seat. The wailing approaches, and the mourners enter, singing.) 



Chorus 

Life so fair, but fleeting, fleeting! 

Gleam of morn, then changeless night. 
Close upon the thrill of greeting 

Comes the sob that ends delight. 
Silence where the bird was singing — 

Blooms the flower, in dust to fall; 
For the careless Hours are winging 

Death to each and all! 

Heracles Is there naught to do but mourn? 



Chorus 



Every leaflet's idle flutter 

Calls the reaper to the vale. 

Red lips, with each word they utter. 
Sooner must be husht and pale. 

How the far-drawn billow crashes. 
And is quencht along the shore! 



60 ADMETUS 



As the morning dewdrop flashes 
Once and nevermore. 

so queenly, radient, tender- 
Must her graces light the grave? 

Love, Love, thou ruthless spender, 
Is there nothing thou wouldst save? 

Love, Love, thou all-retrieving, 
Death is won to thee at last! 

Thine the triumph, ours the grieving, 
Till all grief be past! 

(The mourners pass out. Heracles, who has been submergea in thought throughout 
the singing of the chorus, now rises, as if summoning himself to action.) 

Heracles Father Zeus, thy help in one more task— 
The greatest task of all! Death shall not hold 
Alkestis! {He pauses, as awaiting response.) 

Father Zeus, thy help — once more! 

( There is a sound of low thunder from Olympus, Heracles hears, lifts his face and 
his arms in acknowledgment, and goes out. ) 




HERMES 



THE FOURTH DAY 



In spite of the special vision that has been granted 
him of the divine splendor of Apollo, Palaemon finds 
himself powerless in the presence of the bitter human 
bereavement of Admetus; who, no longer attracted by 
Olympian immortality, is now resolved to live his human 
life, and then to join Alkestis in the realm of shades. 
Heracles, about to depart on his Thracian quest, asks an 
audience of the king. He brings with him a woman, 
heavily shrouded, whom he has won, he says, at a 
wrestling match. As he cannot take her with him, he 
prevails upon Admetus to have her cared for in his 
palace. Looking upon her as she is led away, the king 
and his court are filled with poignant memories of 
Alkestis. Then Heracles tells Admetus how he has 
attempted to conquer Death, and how he has been grant- 
ed a special revelation of the significance of death in 
human life, and how, finally, in recognition of the 
reconciliation of Admetus to his humanity. Death has 
voluntarily yielded up Alkestis; that she may do her ap- 
pointed work with him for whom she was willing to die, 



62 ADMETUS 



and that they two may live on together and be ready for 
the summons of Hermes, whensoever it may come. 
And when this marvelous story is told, and the king can 
no longer doubt that Alkestis lives once more, the day 
comes to its close. For the beautiful divinities that 
accompany the chariot of the sun-god now lead in the 
evening, and all mortal life yields in turn to the kindly 
ministrations of the night. 



ACT IV 



SCENE: As in Act I. 



{Palaemon, blind and more decrepit than heretofore, enters, led by old Zethus, who 
shows for the priest the utmost solicitude, mixt, it ma\f be. With some of the superstitious 
awe that the ignorant are likely to feel toward the insane or the specially afflicted.) 



Zethus This is the way, good Palaemon. We are now 

before the temple, where thou didst desire to be. Canst 
thou really not see it? Why, 'tis as clear as the sun itself! 
To be blind is monstrous. Here the king will come, anon, to 
bid farewell to the great Heracles — Heracles, good Palaemon, 
he that bore thee from the field when thou wert stricken. 
Canst thou remember, being blind? He, he, he! (A mirth- 
less, merely habitual, cackle.) Thou wert a wisp of corn in his 
hands — thou wert! He said he had carried a lion's carcass 
once. He, he, he! 

Palaemon Is no one here? 

Zet . No one. — Yet hold — yes, it is Heracles himself, coming 
hither along the Larissa road, — and he leads a woman by the 
hand. He is coming to meet the king before he goes on his 
way. There is the road, Palsemon — dost see? No, thou art 
blind, indeed! It is the road that leads to the tomb, and over 
it the funeral procession past this morning. Alack, it was 
very sad. {He sighs, imagining that he is very sorroioful.) They say 
she died to save the king, and now he grieves mightily. — A 
cruel stroke it is, Palaemon, that thou shouldst be blind, when 



64 ADMETUS 



there is so much to see. How is it, indeed, with a man who 
cannot see? Can he, in very truth, see nothing? Is it always 
black night, with neither stars nor moon, when one is blind? 
Can one live so? 

Pal. Patiently, and rather to himself than to Zethus. Nay, nay! 
All is light, yet is nothing seen that others see. —Yet now I 
see a dead queen and a mourning king! 

Zet. That cannot be! The queen is in the tomb and the 
king is not here. What else canst thou see, good Palsemon? 
He, he, he! 

Pal. As before. Only the splendor of the god! 

Zet. Only the splendor of the god! Alack, thou art beside 
thyself. I see no god, tho my eyes are sound. I never saw 
a god, unless it were that madcap youth that used to sit upon 
a rock, or lean against a laurel, and sing "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, " 
like a silly bird, — with his fingers twiddling on a piece of 
wood! He, he, he, he, he! 

Pal. No, thy world hath no place for gods. 

Zet. Complacently. Truly not. With sheep for wool and meat, 
and a field where I may dig stones and plant barley, and a 
place to sleep when night comes, I care not, —but I may not 
speak thus, for they say that the gods are easily angered. 
Can they hear us when we talk together, thus? 

Pal. They may be otherwise engaged. 

Zet . Truly. (He speaks as he might in the presence of an infant or 
an imbecile.) Poor old man! He, he, he! He sees Alkestis, 



ACT FOUR 65 

and cannot see the road to her tomb; he sees the king, when 
the king is not here; he sees "the splendor of the god," and 
he cannot see me! He, he, he! How foolish a man is when 
he hath lost his wit! And to such a pass we may all come: 
he was a good shepherd once. (To Palaemon.) But thou hast 
missed much in being blind, Palaemon, — 'tis a brave sight: all 
the people in a procession, and the king grieving for the 
queen who hath died for him. 

Pal. And will the king come here? 

Zet. Anon. 

Pal. Speaking regretfully) to himself. I must not stay to meet 
him. I have spoken to him already, as best I might — or 
rather Phoebus hath spoken thro' me, — and 'twas of no avail. 
May the Fates deal kindly with him, since the god cannot 
change his will! Where is the temple? 

Zet. Why, right before thee! But thou art indeed blind! 

{Palaemon raises his arms and his face toward the temple in silent supplicati § . 
Meanwhile, Heracles, leading a woman who is completely shrouded and veiled, approaches. 
He conducts her to a seat beside one of the pillars of the portico.) 

Pal. Now, lead me away. 
Zet. Whither, good Palsemon? 

{Heracles strides forward and greets Palaemon affectionately.) 

Heracles 

What, good old priest! A priest thou art, indeed! 
The god of light shines thro' thee, tho thine eyes 
Are darkened. But — thou comest from the king: 
How didst thou leave him? 



66 ADMETUS 



Pal. Changed, Heracles! 

His foot was on the ladder to Olympus; 
But now he turns him from the skies, and vows 
To bide his mortal time, and then to seek 
Alkestis in the gardens of the dead! 
Thou only, Heracles, who art the son 
Of Zeus, and yet the earth-tried friend of man, 
Canst help him now. No priest avails, no dream 
Of immortality, away from her. 
Can lift his eyes again to the great boon 
That Phoebus and the dear one whom he mourns 
Have won for him so hardly! 

Heracles Patience, priest: 

The highest powers that sway are in this cause 
Enlisted with the king. Have faith that all 
May yet be well with him. 

Pal. Thy strong right arm 

Is in thy words. Farewell! (To Zethus) 

Now, lead me on — 
Down the Larissa road — toward the tomb. 

Zet. This way, Palaemon! Canst thou not see? 

{The priest stumbles.) 

No, thou art blind, indeed! This way. 

{Heracles goes with them a few steps, bidding farewell; then turns, and finds himstlf 
face to face with Apollo. ) 

Apo . Brother, how now ? What marvel hast thou wrought 
Today? 

{He points to the woman, who is unconscious of his presence.) 



Heracles Gravely. I know not. 



ACT FOUR 67 

Apo . What, thou knowest not 

The import of thy deed? 

Heracles Not when 'tis done 

For man. 

Apo. Oho! Then thou, the friend of man, 

Art balked by this same riddle! I, a god, 
Have dwelt with man and learned to love him well — 
Finding a novel joy in serving him; 
And yet, some monster of perversity 
Resides within his flesh, and brings to naught 
My labors. 

Heracles Canst thou— die? 

Avo. What meanest thou? 

The gods cannot know death! 

Heracles Nay, they are "doomed 

To immortality" — I learned the phrase 
Today. But man knows life and death: he dwells 
Within the mystery about which thou 
Art only curious. Wouldst thou know his will, 
Thou must know death as well as life. 

Avo. Indeed! 

Too high a price for mere simplicity! 

Heracles 

Too high a price for any god to pay. 

Avo, A son of Zeus hath caught the human trick 



68 ADMETUS 



Of answering one riddle with another! — 
Then, Heracles, it seems that each must be 
Content with his own work: thus, I with mine; 
With his, Admetus. 

Heracles Heracles with his, 

Apo. Farewell! The king is coming. Would that I 

Might prove my friendship as thou provest thine. — 
And yet I would not rob thee of the joy! 

{He goes out as Admetus, Kith all the tokens and bearing of a strong man in deep grief, 
enters, attended iij household and courtiers. Music, elegiac in character, sounds while 
all take their places. Heracles drops on one knee to greet the king; then stands beside 
the shrouded Woman and gravely waits for silence. His bearing in the ensuing dialogue 
is not that of one who is conciousl}) conferring a great benefit. Rather, he seems as one 
who has Just received a marvelously penetrating and inspiring revelation, and who is at 
once sobered and lifted up thereby.) 

Heracles Earnestly 

Admetus, king of Pherse, I have askt 

This meeting, since with early morn I go 

On urgent labor to distant land; 

And in thine hour of grief, by wondrous chance, 

A message of high moment hath been sent 

To thee. I am its bearer, and I crave 

Thy audience while I unfold a tale 

Of wonder that shall yield the sweetness forth. 

Out of the bitter heart of thy great grief. 

Admetus 

Heracles, if thou hast aught to say 
To mitigate the sorrow, or to dull 
A single accent or a glance of eye 
From all the past that lives so poignantly 



ACT FOUR 69 

Within my heart, then spare thy speech. No drop 

In all the brimming vessel of regret, 

But has for me a sweetness far more dear 

Than aught that life now holds. A future void 

Of life may not destroy a past that lives. 

Only Alkestis living at my side 

Can take away Alkestis as she was. — 

{He seats himself.) 

But 0, my friend, — the friend of all who need, — 
So little can we guess of all that thou 
Hast in thy heart and in thy might for man, 
That we must hear thy tale, as if it were 
The growth of our own longings into speech! 

Heracles 

Thou wilt be glad of it, king. But first 
I ask a simple favor at thy hand. 

{He leads the shrouded woman before the king.) 

I won this maiden at a wrestling match, 
Today. Thou know'st she cannot go with me 
On my far Thracian quest. I therefore ask 
That she may be protected in thy palace 
Till my return. 

Adm. Within my palace, friend? 

The palace of Admetus is not fit— 

Heracles. Sharply. 

What, dost thou hesitate, Admetus, now, 
To grant a simple favor? — 

Adm. Pardon, Heracles! 

Pherae has nothing thou canst not command. 



70 ADMETUS 



Heracles Must Heracles command a favor? 

Adm. Nay, 

Bear with me friend, or rather with my grief — 
But as she stands with thee, I seem to see 
Alkestis! 

Heracles. It hath come to pass, Admetus, 

That every woman whom thou seest will call 
The loved one to thy mind. 

Adm. No, Heracles, 

The earth holds none like her. And were she here, 
In very truth, we two would live our days 
Rejoicing, while the light should last, and pray 
That Hermes, call might come to both at once, 
And find us ready. Now I sit alone, 
Biding a few brief years, till I shall go. 
Serenely glad to seek her in the shades. 

Heracles 

Thy grief hath made thee wild! 

Adm. Not wild, my friend; 

My mind hath given judgment: better one 
Brief day with her beside me, as she was. 
That we might be united so in fate. 
Than the chill, endless glory of Olympus.— 

Heracles 

But thou wilt keep this maid? 



ACT FOUR 71 

Adm. Eurynome, 

Lead her within ; care for her as befits 
Her noble master. 

{Eurynome approaches the shrouded figure, then shrinks. Heracles, Watchful, puts 
up his hand in warning. ) 

Heracles To Eurynome. Go before, and speak 
No word to her! To-morrow she will be 
Herself once more. 

(The woman follows Eurynome out. All gaze at her with curious fascination. Admetus 
almost rises from his seat; then sinks back, as if realizing that he is oictim of an illusion. 
He resigns himself. His mood is reflected by the song. ) 



Song 



From some far world above, 
There drifted into mine 

A spirit divinely fair; 

And she blinded my eye with her hair- 
She prest her lips to mine — 

And that was love! 

A murmur, a whispered prayer — 
A breathing of wings that past: 

With eyelids wide to the night, 

I strove to trace that flight; 
But the silent spaces, vast, 

Were chill and bare. 

The morn returns to the streams: 
My vision comes not again; 

But from deeper wells of the sky 

Flow the days, and the memory 
Of a bliss that was lost in pain 

Is dearer than dreams. 



72 ADMETUS 



{Heracles stands waiting till the l^ing rouses himself from his mood.) 

Adm. 

We keep thee waiting, friend: the flesh is weak. 



Heracles Gravely, and with conviction. 

In weaknes is its strength. This have I learned 

Today, Admetus. 'Twill be easier for thee 

To get the meaning of the tale I bring. — 

A few hours since, when thou wert bowed beneath 

The first stroke of thy grief, I prayed to Zeus 

For aid in a presumptuous enterprize — 

Adm. 

Presumptuous? To the might of Heracles, 
Is any enterprize presumptuous? 

Heracles 

For such a task the strength of arm avails 

Nothing. My folly thou wilt see, king. 

For thou art man. I tell thee, sudden wrath 

At thy despoiling filled my soul with fire! 

I would go seek the spoiler,— him that comes, 

Hiding his cruel purpose in the dark. 

This arm, that oft hath hurled the foes of man 

To Death and Tartarus, would now meet Death, 

The spoiler, in his hour of victory. 

And wrest from him the prey — would bring Alkestis 

Back to her lord! 

Adm. Heracles, no blame 

Is thine for failure of that high resolve! 



ACT FOUR 73 

Heracles 

Nay, but thou wilt be glad when thou hast heard 
What chanced. — 

Where should I find this enemy? 
I pictured the grim monster, gloating o'er 
His latest victim. Thro' the night I stood 
Beside yon doorway, watching: he came not. 
In early morn I walkt with those that bore 
The beauteous body to the sepulcher 
On the Larissa road. And when the throng 
Departed, and the sounds of mourning died, 
I sat alone beside the silent tomb, 
And waited long, in vain. And when it seemed 
That I must seek the lost one in the far 
Sad garden of Persephone, — 

Adm. My friend! 

So far wouldst thou have gone? 

Heracles Bowing. —then suddenly 

It seemed a presence stood beside the door, 
And slowly grew into a woman's form — 
Mantled in gray, with wreath of asphodel 
About the marble beauty of her brow. 
And ere my lips could frame an utterance, 
A voice, so lowly musical it seemed 
To grow within me, said, ' '0, son of Zeus, 
The love that holds thee to thy strange intent 
Constrains me to reveal myself to thee; 
And as man's helper thou deservest, too. 
That thou shouldst know what every man must 
learn." 



74 ADMETUS 



"And who art thou?" I askt. She answered, 

"Death." 
At that dread name my wrath flamed up within: 
I cried, "Then hope not with so fair a form. 
To shield so foul a monster!" and I sprang. 
And would have grappled with her. As I rose, 
My eyes met hers. — 

Such lustrous, level eyes — 
They held mine — gazing — till I seemed to see 
Sunrise and sunset mingling at some far 
Faint margin of illimitable sea. — 
And then— I knew not that my hands had dropt — 

Adm. 

Ah, mighty Heracles, mighty in love 
Of man, and mighty in thy arm — alas! 
Not even thou canst quell — 

Heracles Not so, king! 

'Twas nothing grim or terrible that broke 
These battle-tested sinews. 'Twas the deep 
Calm beauty of those wondrous eyes, that showed 
World beyond world, all luminous with love. — 

Adm. 

Beauty — and love! 

Heracles Aye, king, beauty and love! 

Weigh well those words; their meanings learn anew: 
Learn what it is that thou hast shunned in fear! 
She who in beauty died for love of thee 
Hath earned the right to teach thee. 



ACT FOU R 75 

Adm. Aye, Alkestis. 

Already she hath taught me much. Go on. 

Heracles 

Then mark me well: the tale affects thee nearly. — 
Unmanned thus strangely, not a blow received 
Or given, unwittingly I lost myself, 
And lookt into the level eyes of Death; 
Until — it may be that I swooned away, 
But this I know: my purpose was forgot; 
The vigor which a thousand victories 
Had stored within my arms was all forgot; 
The glory of Olympus and its gods — 
Even great Father Zeus, — this kindly earth, 
With all its sunny toil and starlit rest — 
All were as if they ne'er had been. — 

That tomb. 
It seemed, was but a gateway, now flung wide, 
And I was gazing thro', into a world 
Miraculous as that which good Palasmon 
Sees thro' his blindness. Yet 'twas but this world; 
For some strange sense was suddenly unsealed 
Within me, and my spirit leapt to meet 
The miracles that live within this earth! 
I heard a bird's song; and within — beyond, 
Were all the songs that birds have ever sung. 
I heard a child's laugh — just a happy rill. 
That told me how a wondrous stream of joy 
Comes rippling down the human centuries. 
I pluckt a flower, and in its silken folds 
The marvel of its beauty lay revealed. 
A million cups, like this, had filled themselves 
With sunlight to the brim; and every one 



76 ADMETUS 



Had claspt its treasure unto life and death, 

To make this beauty— dying in my hand. 

The fragrance drew my spirit back thro' fields 

And garden-plots uncounted, where the winds 

Of long-dead summers played, and elements 

Climbed grossly from the soil, to lose themselves 

In the soft distillation that would mix 

Their souls with beauty — for a summer's morn. — 

But I must not too long withhold thy joy: 
I may not tell thee all that I perceived 
Thro' that new sense that laid the husk aside. 
All was of wondrous import, for I saw 
That earth would not be earth, if Death were not; 
That man would not be man, if Death were not; 
That life would not be life, if Death were not; 
That all the beauty and the melody 
Are molded and attuned in every way 
By those two friends — co-workers— Life and Death! 
And then I knew how she that loveth life 
Must give her life most freely— such a gift. 
And such a consecration as the gods 
May by no means aspire to, being doomed 
To immortality. 

At last I woke 
From my deep dream. My eyes were freed once 

more: 
I saw the gray stone of the sepulcher. 
And that gray figure standing by the door, 
And heard her voice's music once again. 
She said, "The vision I have granted thee 
Is sealed unto the gods. Thou, Heracles, 
Altho immortal, art allied to man. 
In sympathy and thro' Alcmene's pain; 



ACT FOUR 77 

And thou hast earned the right to know this thing: 
Man's love, man's will, — the strangely blended 

twain 
That make him man, — would vanish, were it not 
That life and death are mingled in his blood. 
To woman comes this knowledge easily, 
And she must be man's teacher." 

Adm. Thoughtfully Death was right; 

Her words are echoes of the lesson taught 
By one who pluckt the fatal asphodel — 
Would she were here to — 

Heracles Patience, yet awhile, 

Admetus, and thou shalt rejoice. 

Adm. Rejoice? 

A strange word in Admetus' ears, my friend! 

Heracles Prepare to hear strange words, Admetus; I 
Have yet the greatest marvel to unfold. 
Pardon thy friend for holding thee thus long: 
'Twas needful thou should st hear the tale at 

length — 
Nay, patience! 

After Death had spoken thus. 
She paused and smiled, and then again she spoke: 
' 'Admetus hath been much beguiled of late 
By those who serve the Fates, not knowing me. 
Now is he changed, and shuns no more his lot; 
And since he needs Alkestis, and since she 
Hath taught him now the law of love and death, 
She shall go back with thee to him." 



78 ADMETUS 



Adm. Incredulous What may 

This mean? 

Heracles Alkestis is restored to thee! , 

Thy heart was right, king, she stood but now 
Within thy presence! {Then, in stern command, as 
Admetus starts from his seat) Nay, gO not to her! 

Adm. Falling back in wonder 

*Tis Zeus, the father, speaking thro' his son! 
What is thy will? What may a mortal do? 

Heracles 

Alkestis lives for thee, as once she died 

For thee, king! From deepest consecration. 

The deepest that the Fates allow, she comes. 

With difficulty, back unto the light 

Of this world's day. To-morrow thou shalt go 

And greet her,— not today! Prepare thyself. 

Meanwhile, for the dear life which thou shalt lead 

With her, in this thy happy realm, until 

The voice of Hermes summons thee again. 

Adm. As if in a dream. 

She lives— again? Alkestis? 

Heracles Alkestis lives 

Again! 

{Admetus, over-awed, sits meditating. The chorus goes out, singing.) 

Chorus 

the Day is a loom where the God doth weave, 
A wondrous loom is the Day! 



ACT FOUR 79 

And the gleaming web is the life we leave, 

It gleams with our work and play. 
The flash of the shuttle, the quick return — 

Doth the weaver smile as he sees? 
We may love and hold, we may love and mourn; 

But what doth the weaver please? 

the Day is a harp to the God's swift hand, 

A wondrous harp is the Day! 
Its tones are the noises of sea and land. 

And strange is the harper's lay. 
From the God's swift hand fly the sweet, wild chords— 

From the God's swift hand they fly! 
the music we love, but we know not the words 

That he sings as he passes by! 

{Admetus decends from his seat as the chorus disappears, and would throw himself 
at the feet of Heracles, roho checks bim, and leading him away, exchanges gravely 
affectionate farewells with him. As soon as Heracles is alone, the note of Hermes is 
heard. ) 

Heracles Hermes! What message can he bring? 

{Hermes enters, fresh and debonair.) 

Hermes Well, brother, thou hast stept aside from the 
prescribed path, to perform an unexpected labor. 

Heracles Whither leads the prescribed path, if not to the 
unexpected labor? 

Hermes Ho, ho! riddling again! But spare my wit: I 
come from Hera. 

Heracles What new command from the queen of heaven? 



80 ADMETUS 



Hermes She reminds thee that thy Thracian task is yet 
untoucht. 

Heracles Tell her that I go directly. These hands desire on 
better sport than curbing the wild horses of the north! 

(//e takes up his club, adjusts his lionskin, and starts.) 

Hermes Farewell, son of Zeus and Alcmene! 
Heracles Farewell! 

(Hermes remains on the stage, which is gradually filling with the associates of 
Apollo— now forming an Evening Chorus. The fading gloro of sunset is the light.) 

Chorus 
The Day is gone! The breeze that stirred the meadow 

Waves its last signal from the tree-top's height; 
And, passing into earth's benignant shadow. 

All mortal life must leave this world of light. 
The Day is gone! The cloud-hosts westward marching. 

In flusht ranks pause above the sunken flame; 
Their shadows strike across the sky's faint arching. 

And softly close the gates whence morning came. 

The Day is gone! The doves are homeward plaining — 

Noon's wandering life returns to evening's fold. 
The Day is gone! The sunset glow is waning; 

On mountain peaks the dusk hath dimmed the gold. 
0, fill thine eyes that die with light immortal, 

Once more, man, then dream thyself to sleep! 
The Day hath past beyond the western portal — 

The chariot- throne speeds onward thro' the deep! 

( The divine Chorus of Evening gradually disapears, the Winds lingering about the 
pillars to the last. Then Hermes, at the center, vanishes.) 



..['BRARY OF 



CONGRESS 



078 348''S? 



2 e 



